


Return Route

by angelheadedhipster



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Force Ghosts, M/M, also spaceship feels, and feels about the non jedi, and handsome men, and star wars universe feels, honestly this is just han solo feels, i dont know, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster
Summary: Han met Cassian Andor in a bar, on Corellia.Thirty nine years later, he meets Poe Dameron.





	Return Route

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hi_irashay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_irashay/gifts).



> So after Rogue One came out, some meme floated thru our lives of Cassian and Poe and Han being ‘the three pilots’ or something, honestly I don't even remember. Anyway, my wonderful hi_irashay was like “I...would read that” and I thought “I can do zat” and here we are more than two years later and i’m sure no one was looking for or expecting this but TOO BAD cuz HERE IT IS. OK!

_BBY 5_

 

Han met Cassian Andor in a bar, on Corellia. Cassian was standing in a corner, looking shadowy and disreputable. That was kind of Han’s thing, so he’d walked over to the corner, wanting to see if he could out-glower the man, or if the guy would buy him a drink or offer him a job. Han wasn’t picky.

He was taller close up, and Han ended up buying _him_ a drink. Cassian was a captain, it turned out, in the Rebellion. Han’s ears pricked up at that, because anyone who had a rank in that made-up army and was in a bar this seedy probably wanted something illegal and risky, something Han could charge a lot of money to do.

Cassian did want something illegal and risky. They worked out the details by their third drink, and after the fifth Han had to go back to the ship because he wanted to run his thumb over the bone under Cassian’s eye, and that wasn’t good for a first meeting. Han had to walk a fine line. Trustworthy enough for Cassian to know that he’d get the job done, untrustworthy enough for Cassian to believe Han was the kind of person who’d do this job in the first place.

Han collapsed into his bunk thinking about the flint in Cassian’s eyes. He didn’t usually see that kind of desperation in someone like that - someone who really did think he was doing the right thing.    


Cassian wanted to come with his cargo, it turned out, which Han hadn’t quite bargained for. It was only a four day trip,  though, and if the Captain wanted to be dropped off on some junkyard planet on the Outer Rim with his stolen fuel cells, that wasn’t Han’s problem.

Chewie seemed fine with it, which often meant that everything would go smoothly, but about a quarter of the time meant it was all going to blow up in their faces.

“Stay out of my way, all right, Captain?” Han said, making sure to put enough of a sneer on the title that the other man would know he was making fun of him. “It’s tricky flying, and I’m not running a shuttle service here.”

Cassian didn’t answer, just looked Han up and down before he grabbed his little bag and walked towards his own quarters. He walked with purpose, Han noticed. He wasn’t even _that_ tall.

 

Flying to the Outer Rim was tricky until it wasn’t, and then it was just long. Han ended up hanging around the main deck a lot, waiting for Cassian to come out so he had someone to talk to other than Chewie, someone to pick new fights with instead of the ones he’d had a million times already. Cassian started out quiet, actually staying out of Han’s way, but eventually he started talking. Everybody talked to Han eventually, especially after several days in space, nothing out their windows but the white light of scrambled stars.

Han and Cassian had lots of conversations about the Rebellion, about whether it was worthwhile (it wasn’t, Han thought).They spun out into the night, meandering conversations about what they fought for, why it was worth it.

“I don’t care about any damn ideals or aspirations,” Han told him. “I have one guiding light and it's the glint of Republican credits.”

Cassian scowled at him.

“Actually, that’s not true,” Han said. “I’ll take any form of legal currency. Or illegal.”

“Don’t you need something beyond yourself?” Cassian said, his lisp twisting the last word, shushes of air. “Don’t you get bored of successes that only last until the money runs out?”

“Haven’t yet,” Han said, and drained the rest of his drink.

They played dejarik the next morning (the body chronoscope said morning; the windows still said they were in hyperspace, nothing but the blank blur). Cassian beat Chewie and then stared him down when Chewie started growling. Cassian might actually be as tough as he looked, Han thought, which was rare enough that Han was pretty into it. Han wondered, idly, how Cassian got that way.

That night, Cassian asked if there was any job Han had turned down, any lines he absolutely wouldn’t cross, and that made Han mad, because of course there were. They ended up talking for hours, well into what the chronotype described as ‘night,’ and Cassian’s hair kept falling in his eyes.

Cassian had done a lot of things for his _cause_. Things Han hadn’t ever wanted to do, hadn’t ever needed to do. Wouldn’t do, probably.

Cassian had long fingers, and his accent got heavier as he got more tired. His mouth always looked like he was upset, like he was thinking about something important, or deadly, which he probably was. Han decided he could kiss him now.

Chewie walked out of his bunk at that moment, through them towards the kitchen, and Han gave him the look he usually used in these situations. Chewie roared his ‘you are an idiot’ roar. Sometimes Han thought the fact that Wookies couldn’t really roll their eyes was the only thing that had kept them friends this long.

On his way back through, Chewie said he liked Cassian, but he didn’t think this is a great idea. He said a name, garbled in Kashyyyk, and Han winced at the memory of the last person he had done this with. Chewie was right. You couldn’t trust the kind of people who would sneak off on a ship like his.

Han did it anyway, because he was pretty sure Cassian was actually a worse person than him.

Cassian’s eyes got big when Han kissed him, and even bigger when Han palmed Cassian’s dick through his flight pants. His eyes were so brown, and he sighed into Han’s mouth as they kissed, his eyes slipping closed, those long eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks.

Han pulled back, cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty sure this one was going to be easy, and he was right. Cassian didn’t even say anything, just laughed, softly, and followed Han to his bunk.  


They dropped him in Ryloth three days later, three days of rarely leaving Han’s bunk except to eat and check the navigation systems. Nothing had gone wrong, for once, and him and Chewie didn’t stick around on planet to find out what Cassian wanted the cells for.

Han didn’t particularly think he’d see Cassian again. He didn’t see lots of people again.

Cassian lingered with him, though. The way his eyebrows drifted down when he was really certain about what he was saying, the arch of his shoulders as he came, the hollowness in his voice when he spoke about the future. A sense of desperation so complete and total it came out the other side, became the utter conviction.

Han recognizes conviction like that when he sees it again. He sees it in Leia.

 

+++

_ABY 34_

 

Han hasn’t been on a Rebel - ok, “Resistance” - base in a while, but it looks the same as they always did. He knows how this works. Someone will come up with a crazy plan, one that’s gonna get a lot of people killed. Some hot shot idealist who thinks they’re invincible will volunteer to do it. He was that hot shot, once.

He’s been thinking about Cassian a lot since he picked up Rey. About Cassian’s sense of fatalism, about his grinding, endless war.

It’s been a long time since Cassian. A lot of people in between, but Cassian lingered, still. Han had thought about him on Endor, watching the fireworks as the Death Star exploded, wondering if Cassian saw them, too.

Han hadn’t looked him up then, and had resisted looking as long as he could, not sure what he was even looking for. He finally did it, almost twenty years after Endor. Cassian Andor had died in action, BBY 1, before Han had even been on a Rebel base, before he met Luke, Leia, Vader, any of it. That's all Han found, and he didn’t need to know anymore.

_Battle of Scarif_ , said the holo. Great.

Now Han walks around the base and sees boys in their flight suits, piloting rebel ships younger than Han ever did. They all look like Luke, and he smiles over the ache in his chest.

Missing Luke is like missing a favorite blaster when he misplaces it, like missing his own hand. Like missing something that had always been there, reliable and trusted, that was _his_.

Han’s trying not to think too far ahead, but he hopes they find him.

Han meets a bunch of pilots, girls and boys who speak fast and run quickly, chattering with their droids. Everyone is very excited to introduce him to Poe Dameron, the current hotshot. “Best pilot in the Resistance!” gushes one of the lieutenants, and Han guesses it's probably true. Han knows what Leia looks like when she looks at someone and sees _exceptional_ . Sees _useful_ . Sees _resource._

Poe is arrogant, cocky in a way Han remembers. He doesn’t look anything like Cassian, or like Luke, but Han keeps seeing Luke’s hair flying behind him, keeps hearing Cassian’s accent when Poe speaks.

They walk around the deck together, and Poe is eyeing him. Han isn't stupid. He knows how this works. But he also isn’t _stupid_ , and he’s not as young as he once was.

He’s a hero to the resistance, even if he doesn’t deserve it. This is hero worship. Poe is basically his son’s age.

But Poe is licking his lips and Han is reminded of every rebel pilot he’s ever loved, so he does it anyway.

Being around Poe feels lighter, somehow, even than Luke was. Poe hasn’t had it eaten out of him yet. Poe’s a pilot, that's part of it, gets to stay in the sky, looking down and zipping away. Cassian was a captain; he planned which of his people marched into the fire.

Han doesn’t want to, but he wants to. He follows Poe across the base, a step behind.

There are echoes. The way Poe tilts his head chimes in his memory with the way Cassian did, he blinks his eyelashes just like Han is expecting. It feels, for a moment, as if they are both there.

They lived 30 years apart. Cassian was dead before Poe was born.

Han kisses Poe as soon as the door closes behind them, and suddenly he can’t do it. There are too many ghosts in this room, too many memories. Han himself is a fossil, full of old deaths and regrets left to fester. There’s so much in this new world now, bright and shiny and hopeful.

But Poe is kissing him back, and through him Han remembers.

Luke can see ghosts, sometimes. He had told Han and Leia about it, on Endor when Yoda and Ben Kenobi and his father came to see him, their faces shining out through the Force. Luke talks to them, Han thinks.

But Cassian wasn’t a Force user. He doesn't have a ghost. Han won’t either, and neither will Poe. They’re the grunt workers in this fight, the machinery.

Han never meant to be here, but here - a base, a reckless mission, a _cause -_ is all Cassian and Poe have ever known.

Maybe they would hate each other, sniping over ship routes and kill orders. Han’s not sure, it's hard to hold them all in his head at once. They keep blurring and fading, flickering and overlapping until they are the same person.

“I shouldn’t do this,” Han says, out loud.

Poe raises an eyebrow. “I think you should,” he says, and flashes a smile that Han is sure always works.

Han used to have a smile like that, too.

 

  
When he gets back to the Falcon, Chewie’s fiddling with the wiring on the bay doors. He takes one look at Han, and then looks back at the hallway Han had come down. Chewie roars what Han knows to be his approximation of laughing - a tick picked up from spending so much time with humans - and says, “You’re too old to be doing that.”

“That's what I said,” Han says, indignant. He bites his lip and sighs, shakes his head. Chewie laughs at him some more.

Han feels old, even as his blood is running fast under his skin. He squints up at the Falcon, cranes his neck to look across the deck, the pilots skittering to and fro like brightly colored birds in their flight suits.

Han swings himself under the ship to stand next to Chewie, watches him work.

“So, I think I’ve figured out how to get us onto the base,” he says, several minutes later. “Don’t tell Leia.”

Chewie growls. “I thought we were just dropping people off and getting out of here.”

“Yeah,” Han says. “I thought so, too.”

Chewie looks back at his wires. “No, you didn't.”

“No,” says Han. “I didn’t.” He reaches up next to Chewie, tightens a wire he can see about to come loose. “One last run, ok?”


End file.
